


and such is the plight of icarus and the sun

by orphan_account



Series: edling week 2018 [6]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Edling Week 2018, Ishbalan | Ishvalan Alphonse Elric, Ishbalan | Ishvalan Edward Elric, Ishbalan | Ishvalan Trisha Elric, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, M/M, Magic, Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, ugh this is so long im SO sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-26 07:42:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14996081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: edward elric is an emji. he is ishvalan. he is the solaris prince.all in that order.(edling week day 6: royality au)





	and such is the plight of icarus and the sun

Edward had never seen the Lunar Kingdom, Xing, not as his mother did. 

 

She’d said it was the most beautiful place ever, the yellow pallor of sickness taking over her body and paling her deep brown skin. It was full of gods and goddesses, their auras so overwhelmingly powerful that they’d scorch the very air around them with their raw magik energy. She’d seen the secrets to magik itself, but at the cost of her quickly draining life force. They were poor and lived in a small village just on the skirts of town. No one had, or even knew of a cure, for magikal exhaustion. 

 

“Once you control your magik, you should see it too.”, she’d said, brushing the hair away from his forehead. “Once you visit the Lunar Kingdom, you will be the most powerful being in this universe.”

 

Trishae Elrik was an Ishvalan, an Emji,  and one of the most beautiful magikians in the world. She was alive, she was a mother to two beautiful boys, Edward and Alphonse. They were to be the sons of kings, they’d inherit the fabled Solarist Kingdom and bring back balance to the world of Maji.  _ She was a delusionist _ , other would say.  _ Those two dirt-brown boys aren’t worth anything more than a few tarnished copper pieces you’d find buried in the dirt. _

 

But Trishae Elrik was dead, and magik had died with her on that dismal night. No amounts of delusions or prayers or magik would bring her back. They bury her in her traditional clothes, arms each bearing an armful of golden bangles so she’d have something to remember her first life from as she passed on. 

 

The Elrik brothers went further into town to live with their blacksmith friend and her grandmother, Edward taking on a small job to pay for food and clothing. They’ve been living in Resembool for about 5 years, Edward now a seasoned teenager.

 

“Do you think Mama was right?”, Alphonse asked early one morning, still in his stage of naivety. “You think we’ll see the Lunar Kingdom one day?”

 

Ed froze from where he was shoving things into his bag. “What do you mean, Al?”

 

Alphonse sits up, elbow digging into his pillow. “She said we’d be kings one day, you and I. That we’d see the kingdom across the desert and be welcomed with love.”

 

Edward sighs, flicking his fingers and watching the blankets fold over his brother’s arms with a small shower of golden glitter. “You shouldn’t believe everything Mama told you, lotus.” He goes over and presses a kiss to Al’s forehead, smiling as he snuggles into bed. “Now, get back to sleep and by the time you wake up, I’ll be back with toffee candies.”

 

Al’s eyes light up. “You mean it?”

 

Ed smirks. “When have I ever been wrong?”

 

Before he leaves, Ed peeks into the forge. Winry sits at her stool, hammering at a piece of metal until it’s sparking red and flat. 

 

“You good over there?”, he asks, leaning against the doorframe. 

 

She looks up and gasps. “Edward! You’re awake!” She takes off her goggles and leaps up. The iron rod she had been hammering goes to sit in a bath of cold water. There’s a bit of coal powder smudged on her nose and she blinks when he wipes it off. 

 

“You’re really going, huh?”, Winry asks. 

 

Edward nods. “I really don’t want to, but it’s the only way we can get everyone in this house stable again. My job down in the fields isn’t going to be enough come tax season.”

 

“Well, if you’re gonna go, at least promise me you’ll punch that old bastard Mustang for me.” She finishes her sentence by punching her hand. “He’s gotta get what’s coming to him.”

 

“Of course. Make sure you get some sleep, Win.” He grabs his cloak and pack from the hooks near the door. There’s a small envelope of silver pieces on the side table with his name scrawled on it in barely legible handwriting, most likely containing 6 or 7 of them. Winry waves goodbye to him, sleepily leaning against the doorframe like he was a few seconds ago.

 

Ed walks down to the pier, mismatched legs clunking heavily against the wood. Sailors and peddlers alike give him a wide berth, the burning magikal energy coming off of him in waves.

 

“What do you want,  _ Emji _ .”, sneers the man at the booth, eyeing Edward up and down.

 

Ed pays his disgust no mind and slaps the envelope down on his table. “Enlistment.”, he says simply. 

 

The officer eyes him warily, ripping the envelope open with his nail as he maintains eye contact. The fat silver pieces clink down onto the wood, a few rolling around before coming to a complete stop. 

 

“Where’d you get money like this?”, the man demands. He stands up and grabs Edward by the collar of his shirt. “Who’d you rob on the way here.”   
  


Edward shrugs, slowly extracting himself from the man’s hands. “Listen, man, I’m only trying to enlist. If you don’t believe that money’s mine, I’d be happy to spend it somewhere else.”

 

The man shoves Edward down onto the deck of the pier and spits at him. “You damn right I don’t believe you!” He shoves the meager pile of silver off the desk and sends it tumbling down onto the pier. Edward makes a show of scrabbling for each piece and stuffing them into his pockets. “Now get outta here before I make a kabob outta ya, hear!”

 

Edward nods meekly, then walks off with his head hanging low. People laugh at him until he exits the pier, not realizing his master scheme. Once he’s far enough that no one would recognize him, Edward pulls his grand prize out from his pack; a velvet coin purse bursting at the seams and two heavily jeweled bracelets. The magik replacements Edward had supplied the officer with would last up until someone asks about them, which won’t be long for the coin purse. No one would expect him to be so skilled, which is the best part about being an Emji: no one expects anything from you. 

 

He skips off to the trading posts, a smile on his face. 

 

Havoc greets him with a smile, putting his pipe down to talk. “Whattya got for me today, kiddo?”

 

Edward dumps the coin purse and bracelets onto the table, the grin on his face nearly breaking his face. “Read ‘em and weep, Havoc. This little maggot is gonna join the royal guard.”

 

The man nearly drops his pipe onto the floor as he stares at Ed’s bounty. “Holy shit, kid!”, he exclaims, wheeling over to the counter. “You got a secret job on the side you ain’t tell me about?” Havoc tears the velvet purse open, rubies and golden pieces spilling out in rivers. “These should get you a few good cuts of meat over at the butcher's, maybe even a rack of lamb or two.”

 

“Gods, Havoc, you’re gonna make me rethink all this.”, Edward groans, salivating at the thought of fresh meat. Winry’s blacksmithing work was amazing, but few wanted anything crafted by a woman, much less a child at that. They barely made enough each month to scrape by on taxes. “The officer I stole this from is probably really pissed at me, so I’d prefer not to blow it on food. I have a plan.”, Edward says, shaking all delusions of meat out of his head. “I need some clothes and shoes, a better knife, gloves, and preferably a leather cloak. A canvas bag if you have one, and a less suspicious coin purse. Send half of the money back to the Rockbells when you get the chance, then the rest goes in my purse if you don’t mind.” 

 

Havoc gapes at him. “It’ll take me some time to get all that ready, so you might as well come in. Fix some tea while you’re at it.”

 

Ed grins, then slaps the silver pieces onto the counter. “Oh, one more thing.”

 

Havoc looks over his shoulder, a scowl already forming on his face. “What more could you  _ possibly  _ want, kid?”

 

“One bag of toffee candies, please.”, Ed says. “Send those back to the Rockbells too, would ya?”   
  


“Your brother, huh?” Havoc’s eyes soften. “You know I’d do anything for that kid. Take a seat, Elrik.”

 

Edward opens the door and walks in, toeing his shoes off and places a few bundles of angelica, clove, and mugwort in the small divot near the counter. 

 

“Those protection wards you made last month are still holding up.”, Havoc calls from the back of the shop. “My folks are kinda impressed at how our robbery rates have dropped, so I’d hate to explain to them what happened once you leave.”

 

Edward opens the drawer near Havoc’s stove and takes out the teabags. Cinnamon wafts off of a few in the corner, so he opts for one of those. “Well, I found Alphonse a teacher just south of here, in Dublith. Before I go off to join the guard, she’s gonna come up and stay with Granny, get to know Al and all his magik potential, then take him back to teach him all she knows for a year or two. Give it some time and you’ll have someone else doing your wards while I’m gone.” 

 

Jean laughs. ‘And you think you won’t need to go with her?”

 

Ed thinks back to when he was nine years old, visiting Ms. Curtis and staying with her for those two years. He remembers getting his ass handed to him nearly every day of the week, getting left on an island for a month with nothing but a pocket knife and his wits, and pushing magik out of his fingertips until they blistered. He still has the scars to show for it. 

 

“I had my time.”, he says, shuddering. 

Jean laughs so hard it nearly shakes the room. “And you think the royal guard is gonna be any easier?” He narrows his eyes at Edward, who’s balancing on two stools to reach the mugs. “Wait a second. Pinako doesn’t know about this, does she?”

 

“What makes you say that?”, Ed asks, his voice not squeaking at all. 

 

“Because everyone in this town knows she’d have to be senile or dying to let you anywhere near that castle.”, he says, slapping Ed’s pack and clothing down on the table.

 

Edward pours water into the weathered iron kettle on the stove and sets the kettle on his palm. After whispering a few chants, the water begins to boil. “Of course she doesn’t know, do you think I’m an idiot?” He pours the water into mugs, offering the better looking one to the trader across from him. “The soldiers came by our house yesterday and said if we didn’t pay our taxes on time next month, they’d take Al and me for the stocks. I’ve got to get us both out of that house, and joining the guard so Al can go to Dublith is the only way. There’s nowhere else for us to run, and I’m lucky enough that Ms. Izumi is an old friend of my mom’s, or I’d be shit out of luck.”

 

Havoc nods, the mug of tea balanced in his hands. “I get what you’re saying, kid. If you need anything else, take it. I won’t charge you or your family.”

 

“Oh, shut up.” Edward smiles behind his mug. “But, I really gotta go.”

 

He uses the back room to change into his new clothes; a more modest cotton tunic with gold embroidery, leather pants, and tougher hiking boots. His old clothes, barely held together with threads and magik, are burned to ashes along with the officer’s coin purse. His new cloak is a garish shade of red, which makes Edward grin. 

 

“You know me so well.”, Edward says, fastening the cloak over his chest. He twirls around it, watching the berry red fabric flutter around his legs.

 

Jean wheels away, shielding his eyes. “God, that cloak is hideous. I’d give it to you for free, but I need the money for a Diviner to scrub the memory of it from my mind.”

 

Ed laughs. “I’m gonna miss you in the big city, Havoc.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Everyone says they miss Uncle Havoc until Colonel Mustang gives them everything they’d possibly want.” Havoc clenches his fists on the handles of his wheelchair. “I served on that bastard’s squad for 5 years, and when the Drachman assholes got me, he left me there. They tortured me until I couldn’t walk, then threw me back at the Führer’s feet, broken and resentful.” He lights his pipe and breathes in deeply. “I’ve been smoking ever since that day, it helps with the pain.” A wandering hand clenches at his knee, where Edward knows he can’t feel the pain. 

 

“That’s crazy.” Edward scoffs and picks up the pack Havoc put together for him. The bag itself is a high-quality canvas, insulated with leather and cotton on the insides. “Like I’d like that bastard. He killed my friend’s parents under orders for aiding Ishvalans in the war. That castle is the last place I want to be right now.” He places the small sack of gold pieces in the sack, along with the Majik texts from his old bag, into the new pack. 

 

Havoc grins. “I like you, kid. It’s gonna be hard to replace that kinda spunk.” He beckons Ed to follow him into a side room. “C’mon, let’s get this knife of yours sorted so I don’t take up any more of your time.”

 

Edward sets his lukewarm tea down on the counter and follows. The room Havoc leads him into is covered wall to wall in weapons; morning stars, daggers, even a rifle or two. 

 

“Have your pick, kid.”, he says, wheeling out of the door. “I’ll be in the front if you need me. But, don’t say anything when you leave. If something goes down, cutting your ties here and now is the best place to start.”

 

Edward nods then turns to look at his options. He’s obviously going to get a dagger, the smaller, the better. The inner city is the shadiest place to be, drunkards wanting coin for more ale, pickpockets willing to sneak you out of everything in your possession. A concealed weapon is the last thing anyone expects on an Emji, much less a 16-year-old. 

 

Something catches his eye, a tarnished dagger with a chunk of citrine lodged firmly in its hilt. There are a few characters carved into the sheath, but they’re hidden under layers of rust and wear. It’ll take a few months worth of extraction magik to bring them back into legibility. But he straps it to his pants instead. Something about it is calling to him like he’d be in a world of trouble if he didn’t take the dagger along with him. 

 

Edward throws his hood on as he walks out the door, fastening it all the way down his tunic. Havoc doesn’t even look his way as he walks out of the store, only offering him a half-hearted wave as the chime for the door sounds. Smiling, Edward gives the door a flick of his wrist and orange magik burns bright in the oak wood, then fades into a subtle char mark. Even the most talented Amestrian couldn’t decipher his mother’s native Ishvalan. 

 

He looks around for the last time, then sets off for the castle. 

 

The inner city of Central is just as bad as Edward remembers it being. He remembers people milling about, oblivious to the disease and treatment that lower born people suffered through. The first and last time he had come into Central was when his mother was summoned to the castle to heal one of the Führer’s second-in-command. The guards at the gate had taken one look at her dark skin and sent her away, poorer than she’d been upon arrival. 

 

The castle’s gates sit near the center of the town, poised upon a mountain of smaller houses and shops like the city’s crown jewel. 

“Hold it right there.”, one of the soldiers at the gate spits. His spear crosses Edward’s path and the boy stares at it blankly. “We don’t let people like you onto palace grounds.”

 

The other soldier gives Edward a wide berth, looking at him uneasily from the corner of his eyes. 

 

“What, is it what I’m wearing?” Edward lets his hood down, and the guards gasp. Their eyes dart to his hair, which shines like cornsilk in the afternoon sun.

 

“Go ahead.”, the first guard says. He moves his spear so Edward can get by. “The Führer will be delighted to see you.”

 

Edward’s eyebrows knit together. “He knows I’m coming? Huh, that’s weird.” He walks forward and gives the gate a shove. The doors part easily and he walks inside. The royal officials mill around, casting a look his way and whispering. 

 

“Alright, what’s the big idea?”, he asks a servant, who points at his hair with wide eyes and shaking hands. 

 

“Can I at least see the Führer?”, he asks. She nods and leads him to the throne room. Or at least what he hopes it the throne room, It has impossibly high ceilings, with an ornately carved throne sitting at the top of a marble staircase. 

 

Fucking rich people. 

 

“And you are?”, Mustang asks. His hands are poised to end Edward’s life in one snap. It was those fingers that have exterminated entire cultures, torn families apart. And Edward’s staring them down like they hold flowers instead of his fragile life in them. 

 

Edward scoffs. “Hello, Mr. Flame Mage.” He ignites his bare hand in a power move, watching the Colonel’s eyes grow wide. “Didn’t know there were still Emji around, you?” His lips curl into a cruel smile.

 

Mustang stumbles back from the venom in Ed’s smile, nearly knocking over the Lieutenant behind him. 

 

“So, there are more of you left.”, the Führer chuckles. “I’m surprised your people’s Magik hasn’t gone completely extinct considering how many of you all were killed.”

 

Edward looks up at him, eyes shining bright with malice. “I’m here to join your stupid guard, Your Majesty.” He drops into a slight bow, his legs nearly folding into a curtsy. “I believe that my talents would benefit your cause. I’ve come with money of my own, and a weapon.” He brandishes the tarnished dagger from under his cloak in his palms.

 

The Führer raises his eyebrows. “So you’ve found the Solaris Sword, little prince.”

 

“What the hell is that?”, Edward asks. The Führer snaps his fingers and two servants rush to Edward’s side.    
  


“Please escort our esteemed guest to his quarters. He’ll be spending a lot of time there.”, Bradley sneers.    
  


The servants snap cuffs onto Edward’s hands. They glow green and burn straight through his skin. “Ow! What the fuck is this?! Get it off of me!” The sizzle of burnt skin fills the throne room as Ed is let out like cattle. The mahogany doors shut behind him, reverberating throughout the silent room and abruptly cutting off his cries of pain. 

 

Bradley turns to Lieutenant Hawkeye, who had watched the entire exchange with a horrified look on her face. “Lieutenant.”, he snaps. 

 

She turns to him, biting her lip to keep her face calm. “Yes, My Liege?”

 

“See to it that Edward has some company in his cell.”, the Führer says, folding his fingers over each other. “The king of Xing has finally agreed to come on diplomacy, and I don’t need the heir to some long lost fairy tale dabbling in political matters he has no business knowing of.”

 

“Yes, sir.” Hawkeye bows her head and walks towards the dungeons. She doesn’t want to, but she unconsciously places a hand on the pommel of her sword. One way or another, blood will be shed. 

 

* * *

 

“As the prince of a magically thriving kingdom and the heir to my throne, you must come with me.”, Emperor Yao spits, looking down at his son. 

 

Ling fiddles with the hem of his dress robes, looking down at the polished marble. His own saddened face looks back at him. “I was just thinking, Father, that the Amestrisians have yet to find my fabled soulmate. If I am to get married to anyone else, the magik in both of our lands will be nullified. 

 

“Nonsense!” Emperor Yao turns on his heel and starts for the door. “Their ruler, Führer King Bradley, has sent me a message saying they’ve found their Solaris Prince.” He waves the tattered scroll in the air. “Your string of unruliness ends with this binding, my son.”

 

Ling feels his feet freeze to the floor. Once he is to become Emperor, there’s no telling what his father will force him into. It’s already been a chore avoiding any talk of betrothal around his fathers and advisors, not to mention the Amestrisian heir was most likely more stuck up than Ling could ever be. Amestris was a land without magik, yet their royalty still found a way to make their lives well-fed and cushy. 

 

“Yes, father.”, Ling says plainly. He walks over to where his father stands, hands clasped behind his back. The Emperor smiles thinly and places a hand on his son’s shoulder. 

 

“I knew you would come around eventually.”, he says. 

 

Their caravan leaves that same night. Their Xerxian desert is much easier to navigate at night, the blazing heat replaced by cool sand and sparkling constellations. 

 

It doesn’t help ease the pit of despair currently carving itself into his stomach. 

 

“Young Lord, please try to calm down.”, Lan Fan sits at his side, dressed in their finest Xingese regalia. Ling knows his guard would rather be in their regular uniform than the ridiculously gaudy one they’ve been forced into by the servants. “Your anxiety over this situation is only going to make their ruler trust us less. They already hate our country for its carefree use of magik, so I would prefer to keep their eyes off of your apparent nervousness.”

 

Ling sighs, thankful that he and Lan Fan are the only ones in their caravan. “I wish it was that simple.” He summons a simple strand of moonlight from the light outside and begins weaving it around his finger. “Apparently, their prince is supposed to be one of the most powerful magik users in their kingdom. It’s really suspicious as to how we haven’t heard anything from Amestris for years, and then they just show up with an heir.” 

 

Lan Fan leans back, face pensive. “You are right, my lord. However, it is not wise to enter a new country with poisonous beliefs. We can snuff out their secrets from the inside.”

 

He nods, and the remainder of their desert trip is silent once they both fall asleep. They arrive in Amestris just as the sun is rising and Ling’s strand of moonlight has withered to nothing. The horses take them through the towns and Ling watches citizens point at the elaborate threads covering their carriage. He puffs his chest out in pride. Amestrisians have never seen the gaudy fashion of Xing, not since the first war, so walking through their marble white palace will make them an eyesore. 

 

The carriages stop just outside the castle gates, so they have to descend from their cushy seats and walk the rest of the way to the staircase that leads to the inner castle. 

 

“They’ve sure got the money to survive without magik.”, Ling whispers to Lan Fan, gesturing to the numerous decorative topiaries lining the cobblestone path. 

 

Lan Fan gives him an appreciative nod, surveying their surroundings. “I wonder where they keep their prisoners.”

 

A servant leads them up the staircase and into a hallway. Ling has to stretch his neck to see the throne room, and it’s just as disgustingly extravagant as one would expect from a country who has done nothing but profit off of war criminals. Their conference room is just as grand; a large, polished oak table stretching from one side of the room to the other. Elaborate paintings decorate the wall, each depicting a different Amestrisian victory at war. 

 

“Emperor Yao!”, the Führer exclaims, his deep echoing across the room. “I knew you were excited about our meeting, but I wasn’t expecting your company to arrive so soon.” He looks to Ling, a sickening smile growing on his face. “Come, sit. We have much to discuss.”

The Emperor glides over to the seat on the opposing side of the table, his traditional silks brushing the floor. Ling and Lan Fan stand awkwardly at the door, not knowing where to sit. 

 

Emperor Yao turns to his son, an annoyed expression on his face. “Son, why don’t you and your vassal go find a library or something? It’d be rude of us to be staying here and not be educated on the history of our hosts. 

 

Ling nods, grateful for the gracious out this gives him. “Yes, thank you, Father.” He and Lan Fan bow to the Führer. “If you’ll excuse us, your Excellency.” 

 

Once the two men begin talking, Lan Fan pulls him out the door and they practically bolt from the conference room. 

 

“I’m getting this weird tug in my stomach.”, Ling says. “It’s like there’s somewhere we have to go.”

 

Lan Fan stares at him, then their face sets into something serious. “Then let us follow it, my Lord.”

 

They run down a few hallways and descend two or three flights of stairs. As they get deeper and deeper into the castle, it starts to get less refined and more dingy looking. 

 

Finally, the par arrives in front of a wrought iron gate, which opens without any pulling. Weird. 

 

The prison cells along the walls are all empty, yet Ling’s stomach is nearly tugging itself out of his stomach trying to get to wherever his magik is pulling him. 

 

“Wait.”, Lan Fan says quickly. They step in front of Ling and draw their knife. “There’s someone in that one.” They point to a cell far off down the hallway, a sickly green light emanating from it.

 

Ling inhales sharply. The tugging in his stomach has bloomed into a full fire. “That’s the one.” He breaks out into a run, ignoring Lan Fan’s cries of protest. 

 

There’s a boy in the cell, Ling realizes as he comes to a stop. His hair is matted down with dirt and sweat. When he moves his head to stare up at Ling, he can see a jagged cut running across his eyebrow that’s slowly scabbing up. There’s a trail of drying blood going from his forehead to dripping down his chin. There’s already a small puddle forming underneath his face. 

 

“It’s you.”, Ling says. “You’re the Solarist Prince!”

 

The boy bares his teeth. “So? What’s it to you, fuckwad?” He jerks forward but hisses and retreats when the cuffs around his wrist dig into his bloody wrists. “I’m Edward.”, he says in a pained voice. 

 

“Lan Fan..”, he whispers. “They’ve got him in iron cuffs.” They follow Ling’s gaze down to where the skin around Edward’s wrists is bleeding and oozing with pus. The skin there is a sickly black, dead and decaying.”

 

They shudder, mouth setting into a hard line. “God, I can’t believe they’d do this to their own prince!” They kick the iron bars of one of the empty cells. 

 

Ed looks from Ling to Lan Fan, then down at his own hands. “What do you mean I’m a prince?! Is this what that bastard Bradley was talking about?!” Ed shuffles a little bit to the left and pulls out a tarnished knife. “He was pretty excited when I brought out this old dagger.”

 

Ling gasps. “The Solaris Sword? You’ve found it?” 

 

“More or less?” Ed flicks his wrist and the dagger slides neatly out of its sheath. The golden blade practically glows in the darkness of the dungeons.

 

Lan Fan looks at Edward. “If you can handle that thing appropriately, then you’d be able to get out of here in no time.”

 

But there isn’t time for that. The sound of boots against cobblestone echoes down the hallway and Ling freezes. He grabs Lan Fan by the arm and pulls her into one of the neighboring cells. Edward pushes the Solaris Sword back into its sheath and slips it back into his cloak pocket. 

 

“Let’s go!”, shouts a guard. She comes to a stop in front of Edward’s cell and opens the door. He crawls as far back into his cell as possible, eyes wide with fear.

 

“Hawkeye, no, I can’t leave!”, he shouts. Hawkeye bites her lip but hoists Edward up by the shoulder. 

 

“Sorry, Edward. I’m on strict orders from the Führer. I’d let you go if I could, but Emperor Yao wants to see the Solaris Prince in all his glory.” SHe leads Ed down a hallway and out the door. Ling and Lan Fan look at each other and sprint out of the cell, running in the opposite direction. 

 

They barely make it to the throne room just as a few soldiers drag Edward in. Ling kneels next to his father on one of the silk pillows and tires not to wince as he gets the full scope of Ed’s injuries. His wrists are scabby and dripping on the floor, one of his shoulders looks dislocated. And they’ve dressed him up the finest silks Amestris can offer. Peach fabric puffs out on his legs, melding well with the orange tunic and yellow bangles trailing fabric behind him. There’s even a small crown on his head, and caked makeup where Ling knows Ed was sporting a black eye. 

 

The iron cuffs are a garish touch. 

 

Edward catches his eye and sneers. 

 

“Introducing, the Solaris Prince, Edward Elrik!”, announces the Führer. “And the future spouse of Lunar Prince, Ling Yao.”

 

Ling hangs his head as his father applauds. He wants to die. 

 

Edward is shoved around the room, fawned over like a sugary treat in the window of a bakery. Once he gets back to Bradley, there’s a look of pure, uncontained fury on his face. In a split second, he jumps his chains and runs up to the throne, the Solaris Sword held to his throat. 

 

“Nobody fucking move or I’ll slit his throat!”, he yells. 

 

Colonel Mustang snaps his fingers and a small blaze finds itself growing around Edward, but with a few chants, it’s extinguished by a cloud of ice. 

 

“Your magic is of no use here, Colonel! I am the Solaris Prince and the rightful heir to the fucking throne!” He chants something low under his breath and begins to glow.

 

Ling unconsciously rises from his pillow, but a firm hand on his shoulder keeps him seated.

 

“We don’t meddle in the affairs of other countries, Crown Prince.”, he says coldly.

 

Ling’s face twists into a sneer and he scowls at his father. “Maybe you don’t.” He slaps his father’s hand away with a beam of moonlight. “But that’s my betrothed up there, and like hell, I’m going to let him die!”

 

He summons his Lunar Blades and rushes forward, Lan Fan close to his side. They fight through the horde of soldiers surrounding the throne while Mustang tries to talk Edward down from his apparent crazed state. 

 

Ling slashes one across the throat and his wound cauterizes immediately. It’s an unfair bloodbath, but it’s the only way anyone in Amestris will truly be free.

 

There’s a scream from the throne and Ling sees blood fly from the top. Suddenly, Ling has never wanted to see another monarch in his life. After hacking his way through, he makes it to Edward, who has killed the Führer in his anger and now scowls in a shocked Mustang’s face. His clothes are stained with blood, the Führer’s body slumped lifeless in his throne

 

“That bastard has murdered my people with your help and kept me imprisoned in my own castle.”, Edward spits. “Leaving him alive would be an insult to my people, and you’re lucky that I didn’t do the same to you.” He points his sword at Mustang’s neck, then lowers it. 

 

“Thank you, Edward.”, Mustang says. Ed takes a few steps forward and punches him in the mouth. Ling watches a few teeth fly across the floor. 

 

“And that was for my Uncle Yuriy and my aunt Sarah! You left a little girl with no parents for all these years just because they healed innocent people.” He shakes out his hands and sneers at Mustang and Hawkeye. “If I were you two, I’d get out of this castle and run as far as you can.”

 

He turns to Ling, a soft smile on his face. “So, we’re betrothed, huh?” He takes Ling’s hand in his own.”That doesn’t sound so bad, but can I be your boyfriend first.”

 

Ling kisses Edward’s forehead, both of them bathed in an ethereal glow. “You can be anything to me, I just want you in my life.”

 

* * *

 

Edward has seen the Lunar Kingdom, he’s seen it all in Ling. 

 

And it’s just as beautiful as his mother claimed. 

**Author's Note:**

> I WAS SO HYPED WRITING THIS GOD I LOVE THIS PIECE SO MUCH! I LOVE ROYALTY AUS and i was gonna do this for fantasy au but i SAVED IT!
> 
> show ur love for my stuff below if you don't mind! tomorrows the last day so im gonna drop off the face of the earth and sleep for a bajillion years


End file.
